


Cursed Communication

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alliteration, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Other, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You’re going to assassinate an archangel for his assertion over your anatomical authority.





	Cursed Communication

**Author's Note:**

> Teeeechnically based off a prompt from Gabriel-Monthly-Challenge on Tumblr but I'm not sure I followed the rules right. Oh well; it is a thing based on something they wrote and here it is. In any case, this week has been a complete fail for me every step of the way so I wrote something for an idea that made me laugh. Hopefully it amuses you too. I was gonna try to do a straight crack fic but I couldn’t help but make it fluffy, I guess. It’s my thing~

 

How did it all go so wrong?

You thought (‘thought,’ as in past tense) that you and Gabriel had a good thing going. You’ve been friendly almost since you first met, and absolutely flirty since then– much to the annoyance of Sam and Dean, the latter of whom actually took a swing at Gabriel to…defend your honor, you guess. It was funny, and Gabriel had good humor, and you liked him.

Liked. Again, past tense.

Because after that first meeting, things mellowed out enough that Sam and Dean forgave his little ‘not-as-dead-as-you-thought-I-was’ act and he started hanging around more and more. And the flirting turned up more and more– but never went past that. Because as much as you liked him, you weren't completely sure he liked you.

Now, you’re pretty sure you made the right call.

“Gabriel!” you snap, trying to be courteous to the sleeping library occupant just down the hall.

However Sam walks in, yawning, and runs a hand through his hair, bringing it from ‘mussed’ to ‘model’ in seconds. He has a line on his face from where he fell asleep on his book. It’s the only thing that keeps you from hating his ability to literally roll out of bed (or worse) looking like _that_. “What’s wrong?” he asks you and looks around.

You can only seethe. “ _Gabriel_ ,” you hiss as Cas and Dean (dear absent god _why him_ ) walk into the room.

Sam frowns. “‘Gabriel’ what?”

You point at your mouth.

“Gabriel…cursed you?”

You nod.

“That’s…not possible,” Cas says, perplexed. You glare at him. Semantics are not your biggest concern right now.

“What did he curse you with?” Dean prompts.

You rub the space between your eyes. You don’t want to say. Or rather, you don’t want to find out _what_ you're going to say. It’s really a crapshoot at this point. But Sam says your name seriously, and you sig– _exhale heavily_.

“Alliteration…always assures annihilation.”

They all blink in unison. It’s a little creepy.

“Uh… _what_?” Sam asks.

You aim your glare at him. He flinches, so that at least is satisfying. “I am _cursed_ to continue this conundrum with my communication,” you say through grit teeth.

Dean snorts. You look at him and he’s smiling in a way that suggests he’s holding back laughter. He holds his hands up in mocking surrender but he can barely keep his lips together.

“Ah…alliteration?” Sam guesses.

You nod. Sam’s mouth twitches, and within seconds both he and Dean are laughing raucously. Cas remains impressively stone-faced but you bet he’s laughing inside. You cross your arms and glower at New Mortal Enemy Numbers Two and Three. Number One, of course, being a certain archangel. Who you had liked– up until he took your mouth hostage.

“Well, at least now you know how it feels to get fucked over by Gabriel,” Dean says and pats your shoulder before leaving. Asshole.

“I’ll see what I can find in the library but, uh, I’m not sure what anyone can do about finicky archangels,” Sam says, smiling, and leaves. Bastard.

“I’m sure it will be over in a day or so,” Cas says, awkwardly mimics Dean’s pat, and goes. Dick.

You glare up at the ceiling and think about how you can get through this without saying one single syllabl–

If this alliteration thing spreads to your thoughts you don’t care what it takes you will find Gabriel and _pluck him like a dead chicken_.

 

You run out of your room and slam the door shut. “Gabriel I will WASTE YOUR WORTHLESS–!” You shut your mouth and start breathing through your nose. The thudding and beeping on the other side of the door continues and you stomp away, towards the bunker exit, and almost get there when Dean, Cas, and Sam all come out of the library and block your way.

“What now?” Dean asks but he jolts when he sees your face. You’re barely holding back tears, so you can only imagine how you look. Having someone take over your main outlet for communication is decidedly not fun.

You point your finger back towards your room so quick you pull something in your arm. You don’t care. “It’s raining rhubarb on the regular and there are recalcitrant robotics running around like rascal–” You clamp your hands over your mouth and scream into them. “ _GABRIEL!_ ”

“You rang?” Gabriel says, appearing on the nearest desk and grinning. It’s all you can do not to grab a sharp object and just start stabbing. “Oh come on! I’m giving you a lot of material to work with.”

You’re shaking. Cas looks concerned. If he wants to keep his brother, he should be.

“Uh, Gabriel?” Dean, of all people, sounds worried. “Unless you want to die for real you should probably stop.”

Gabriel is about to say something but when he looks at you, really looks at you, he actually blanches. Apparently the murderous rage-waves floating off your body manage to get to him, because he snaps his fingers and the weight on your tongue vanishes.

“Talking…I can just…talk normal…say things that don’t…” The test works and you let out a huge sigh. The relief of having your mouth back under your complete control is so great that you actually sink to your knees.

“Gabriel, wai–” Cas sighs and you look up to see the archangel is gone. You shake your head but let it be. You need the space to cool down before you find out what the _hell_ is going on.

 

Gabriel, apparently, needs more space than you do. You’ve been trying to contact him for hours and gotten nowhere. So you go to the library where Dean sits on one side of the table with the laptop and Cas sits on the other side with a book. Sam is absent, but that’s all right– you only need the angel.

As if sensing that, Cas looks up on your approach. “Hey. Can you do me a favor?” you ask, and then launch into it. “Gabriel’s ignoring me. Can you tell him to come by; that I just want to apologize?”

“I will relay your message,” Cas says confi–…with assurance.

“Thanks,” you say and pull on your jacket.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asks, looking up over the computer.

“Just out back to get some air.” And privacy, in case Gabriel does decide to swing by.

There’s a small table and some crappy old folding chairs out there. You pick the most stable of the lot and squint at the darkness. Despite the uncomfortable seating and cold air, you resolve to wait a while, and pull out your phone so you’re not quite so bored.

A blanket is dumped in your lap and you jolt up, but Gabriel plops into the chair next to you and huffs. “What’s wrong with your room?”

“Nothing. At least, not anymore,” you say and pull up the blanket. Gabriel winces, but you put your phone away and look at him. He looks anywhere else. You sigh. “I’m sorry I got… _that_ upset. It was probably an overreaction on my part. I just– I’m sorry for whatever I did. I thought we were friends.”

“We _are_ friends,” Gabriel says vehemently, eyes snapping up at you as he sits up straight. “We’re actually–!”

You can practically _feel_ Gabriel pulling the handbrake on that one, and after a few seconds you decide to fill the silence. “So what was the point of that?”

Gabriel looks at you again. It’s a small victory, but a victory still. “The point?”

“You don’t…do stuff like that without trying to make a point,” you say. “Teach lessons. Or get revenge on Dean, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat your sandwich.”

Gabriel snorts. “No. No lesson. No revenge. Just…I thought you’d find it funny. We were talking about alliteration a few days ago.”

You do remember that. Joking around that started out verbal and then devolved into playful shoving, but what you remember the most is when he accidentally wrapped his arms around you and–

You think you might get it. And you’re afraid of what Gabriel might do next if _you_ don’t broach the topic. Like a grown-up. “Gabriel,” you say. “Were you…pulling my pigtails?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that; it’s a legitimate expression,” you say. “And don’t dodge the question.”

He huffs and mutters, “Yes.”

You can’t help but smile. “Gabriel. You _idiot_.” And then you grab the back of his head and pull him in for a firm kiss before he can do anything else stupid. He doesn’t resist– in fact, he yields, and it’s up to you to pull away while he remains where you put him. You brush a bit of his hair away from his forehead. “All you had to do was _say_ something.”

He smiles up at you. In an instant you’re draped across his lap, blanket and all, and the chair feels suspiciously sturdy. “I’m not so good at that. However…I am pretty good with my mouth in other ways.”

It’s the dumbest pick-up you’ve heard in a long while. It’s also perfectly Gabriel. You smile and lean in– only to stop a few centimeters from his mouth. “If I ever lose any amount of control over any part of my body _ever again_ because of _you_ I will end you. I’m guessing you’ve never been compelled but having experienced it twice now I can tell you, even just a small bit of it is _not fun_.”

“Understood,” Gabriel says quickly. He grins. “Completely clear and coherent my cupc–”

You press your lips to Gabriel’s and hope he really is good with his mouth in other ways.

He is.


End file.
